We Reach Our Apogee Slowly
by Aeris Tsukiyono
Summary: Jim quickly realized he was going to have to break the rules if he wanted to survive on the Enterprise. Eventual Kirk/Spock, Spock/Uhura, R. Re-post from LJ


Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, mostly, but also a lot of other people/groups like Paramount, J.J. Abrams, and the various writers/directors. I'm not one of those people, sadly, because if I was I'd be filthy rich.

Summary: Jim quickly figures out he has to break the rules if he's going to survive on the Enterprise.

Pairings: eventual like whoa Kirk/Spock (STFU), Spock/Uhura (blame JJ, not me)

Warnings: Angst, meta, language, attempts at witty banter, overly-important tone, intentionally confusing parts, potentially OOC everybody

A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, but lo and behold, over 20,000 words later I'm still working on this, so yeah. Here's Part 1 of my Kirk/Spock epic. I'm definitely one of those people who never thought they'd be into Star Trek, but I loved the movie so yeah, forget that. I've never seen TOS (well, I've probably stumbled across a few random episodes like everyone, but you know), so this is strictly STXI. Also, just FYI, I didn't include anything outside of that movie—so the characters I've stumbled across in other fics who seem important (Gary, T'Pring, Sam) just didn't make the cut here. I feel awkward writing characters I've never actually seen in fanfic. Srsly. A way longer AN will be posted at the end of the entire fic and will include my rambling excuses for this travesty. :P

A/N Part 2: This is a re-post of a WIP that is already archived at LJ. Aya (an RL friend's ffn username) convinced me to post this here, and I convinced her to get an LJ, so it seemed like a fair trade. I'll update occasionally , but I'm focused more on updating on LJ. My username's kowaiyoukai there. I'll try to update this soon after I update LJ though.

Part 1

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Jim thought of the alternate timeline (which he didn't, mostly, because what was there to think about, it just didn't exist and that was the end of it), he imagined a world where his father hadn't been killed. In this world, he could see himself growing up with two loving parents, or at least two parents who got along and cared about him, and then he saw all of the direct consequences of that—he'd be more moral, probably, since his father would have taught him from a young age to do things like be polite and avoid confrontations and treat women with respect, and he'd understand that sometimes a man needed to think things through carefully before making a decision. He would have had an example to live up to, someone to please, someone to disappoint. He would have had someone there to encourage him, to sit in the audience at his sports games, to help him with his physics homework, to explain to him how to read a woman when she turned away and when she didn't. He imagined family dinners, part-time jobs, learning to drive—all the aspects of small-town life that he'd lived through, but this time there was an older man there, one who had presence and charisma and knew when to shout and when to smile.

There really was no point in thinking about it, but when he did, Jim wondered which timeline was right. He had only ever lived _his_ life, had only ever known the distance that came with an overworked mother and a frustrated step-father. The possibility of another life danced around behind his eyes, not often but when it appeared it burned his retina and stayed there like afterimages for days. He didn't know what he wanted to be different. Any one thing could be changed and ignite a trillion other changes, and he couldn't be sure what was best. He didn't know who he could be.

Were things better, in that other timeline? Was he a kinder person? Wiser, stronger, able to do everything and do it all impressively? Or was he cruel? Careless, manipulative, quick to anger and quick to judge? There would never be a way to know for sure. He had no connection to his other self besides Ambassador Spock, and that was one connection he would rather not use.

So Jim let himself think about it, sometimes, when it was so late it was early and everyone assumed he was either sleeping or fucking or planning or doing whatever it was captains did in their quarters at night. He liked to keep up that air of mystery; he considered it a part of his job. And when his whole crew wondered what he did, Jim was right alongside them, imagining himself as a mythical figure, imagining a life he had not yet lived and would never live. Everyone on the Enterprise had their own idea about who Captain James T. Kirk was, even Jim.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The 'no fraternizing with the crew' rule lasted about two days into the Enterprise's first voyage with Kirk as Captain. When Jim walked onto the bridge after he was made Captain officially and hadn't simply conned his way into the position, he knew he was destined for great things. At the end of his first day, he thought he'd become a slobbering raving lunatic if he wasn't able to unwind with the rest of the ship. Half-way through the second day he was planning a game of poker with McCoy, Sulu, Scotty, and Chekov. That was how, just after dinner on the second night of the Enterprise's first mission, Jim found himself sitting in a recreation room, holding a losing hand and working his charm.

"You can't fold yet," Chekov said in his thick, nearly impossible to understand accent. "We've barely started!"

"No, I know he's up to something," Scotty replied, pointing a finger vigorously at Jim. "And I'm not losing all my money this easy."

"Up to something?" Jim said, grinning. He stretched backwards in his seat lazily, cocking an eyebrow at the suspicious tone in Scotty's voice. "I'm just trying to play the game."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Don't be a damn idiot." He shook his head and looked at Scotty. "Jim's bluffing. He's got nothing."

Scotty glanced quickly between the two of them. "You don't know that. Do you? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Bones, are you _sure_?" Jim asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, studying McCoy intently.

"Can we get on with the game?" Sulu asked. He'd been quiet up to this point, which let Jim know that he either had an incredibly good or horrible hand. No one stayed that quiet during poker unless they were hiding something.

"If you're going to fold, do it already," McCoy said. "Just do _something_, dammit."

Jim stared at Chekov until he folded, feeling unaccountably lucky. This was a new group of people to play with, aside from Bones, and chances were good he could make some money before they caught on to his tricks. Now that Scotty had folded, Jim only had to intimidate Chekov and Sulu. He'd deal with Bones at the end.

Or so he thought. Turned out Bones had a set of three nines, which beat Jim's two threes by, oh, a shitload. After a few more rounds, and several bouts of name-calling and rude suggestions about the legitimacy of the birth of whoever had just won, everyone headed back to their quarters. Jim had every intention of doing the same, but as Captain he knew he had to check on the bridge first, just to make sure things were in order. He trusted his crew to keep everything running, but even on his second day Jim realized he liked overseeing tasks personally. It was the only way he could be sure they would get done the way he wanted them to.

Besides, it _was_ kind of awesome watching all the crew suddenly look shocked and stand at attention when he randomly popped onto the bridge at two in the morning.

So Jim made his way to the bridge, and the few people he passed on the way saluted him even though he was out of uniform. Jeans and a t-shirt were comfortable and completely not regulation, but for some reason he was never able to go incognito. Jim thought it would be a few weeks, at least, before everyone recognized him out of uniform. It was depressing to think he'd made such an impression in two days. On the other hand, maybe they all knew him because of his amazing and superb skills as a captain. Then he passed a crewman who saw him and didn't respond at all, and Jim was thankful and annoyed and decided he needed to stop thinking so much.

"Good work," he said and patted the man on the back briefly before continuing towards his destination. The man looked confused and slightly put off but he nodded anyway. Jim was going to be the best captain Starfleet had ever had if it killed him, and that meant moral support for the crew even when they didn't know who the heck he was.

When Jim reached the bridge, he took one step out of the lift and then stopped abruptly. Spock was in the Captain's chair, head bowed as he read through a stack of paperwork that Jim was sure could wait until the morning. The rest of the crew were at their stations, but they were relaxed, cheerful and speaking to each other across the bridge as they worked.

"Spock," Jim said, moving forward with the stride his long legs and confidence gave him. The crew immediately stood up and saluted him, but Jim made a dismissive motion and they relaxed, sitting down but making no attempt to restart their conversation.

"Captain," Spock answered, not looking up from the report. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a problem," Jim said. "Actually, I can think of several problems right now."

Spock looked up towards Jim and raised an eyebrow. "Please enlighten me."

"I can tell when you're humoring me," Jim said. "And I don't like it."

"Is that one of the problems you wish to bring to my attention?" Spock asked. He lowered his eyebrow and maintained his blank expression, but Jim was sure if Spock had been human he would have been smirking.

"No. Just a comment," Jim replied. "My problems are that, one, I'm not asleep yet. Two, you're not asleep yet. And three, you run a pretty laid back bridge, considering how uptight you are."

"If I may address the problems in order, I believe I can assist you in all of them," Spock said. His tone was so matter-of-fact that Jim couldn't help but grin.

"Oh, please do," Jim said. "I love a good excuse." He waved a hand at Spock, gesturing for him to continue.

"The first problem is due to your schedule. If you would allot more of your free time to sleeping and less to fraternizing with the crew, I believe you would already be asleep at this time of night. The second problem is due to my schedule. However, if you check the logs you will find that I am scheduled for three night shifts a week. Therefore, my presence here is not only acceptable but also mandatory. The third problem is due to the way I have observed you prefer to run this ship. I believe you prefer the crew members to function socially and perform their duties at the same time. You appear to believe this creates happiness and camaraderie among the crew which enables them to work quickly and effectively. Suffice to say, I have not seen evidence to the contrary. As you are the captain, I will abide by your wishes in this matter."

By the time Spock had finished his speech, the entire crew of the bridge was staring at him. Spock had spoken in such an even tone and with such logic, even at two in the morning, that Jim couldn't help but feel comforted. No matter what else happened, Spock would never change.

"You didn't explain why you're so uptight," Jim said.

"I am merely controlling my emotions, which is something you might be wise to consider attempting," Spock replied.

"We can't have that, now can we?" Jim grinned and sat on the arm of the Captain's chair, forcing Spock to move his paperwork. "If both of us controlled our emotions like you do, we would bore the crew to death."

"It is impossible for a human being to die from boredom," Spock replied.

"You don't know that for sure," Jim said.

"Yes. I do."

"Also, you're in my chair," Jim said.

"As I am scheduled for duty at this time and you are officially off-duty, and as the chair is meant to be used by the highest ranking commanding officer on the bridge, this chair currently is mine," Spock said.

"See, now that sounds like an excuse to me," Jim said, waving a hand in front of Spock. "I don't know, it just doesn't seem right."

"How so?"

"I'm the captain, in or out of uniform, right?"

"That is correct."

Jim nodded a bit and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. "So then it's my chair all the time. Even when I'm not on duty or in uniform. It's the Captain's chair. I'm the Captain. So it's my chair. That's logic for you."

Spock tilted his head towards Jim in a regal manner. "Your logic is sound. Would you like me to move?"

"Nah," Jim said, shaking his head. "I just wanted you to admit that I'm right."

"I see," Spock said in a tone that implied he didn't understand at all.

"Now we both know it's my chair and I get the final say in who sits in it," Jim said. He stood up abruptly. "You can sit in it when I'm not around."

"Thank you," Spock said, so dryly Jim thought he might choke on his own sarcasm. "That is a generous offer."

"What can I say? I'm a generous guy," Jim said. "And now I'm off to sleep."

"Good night, Captain," Spock said, inclining his head once more.

"Night, Spock," Jim replied. "Don't let the crew have too much fun."

"I will control their exuberance to the best of my ability."

Jim walked to the lift and shook his head, letting out one loud laugh before the doors closed. "I'm sure you will."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was good to work the night shift sometimes. Spock knew his presence not only encouraged the officers to perform well, but it also reminded them that their superiors had not forgotten they existed. In his time at Starfleet, Spock had the misfortune of hearing several complaints that the night crews' efforts went unappreciated. He had no intention of allowing any of his crew to feel as though their presence was anything less than vitally important.

Technically, the crew of the Enterprise were not "his" crew, but Spock believed they did belong to him, in a way. He had briefly been the Captain and was now the First Officer, and barring any unforeseen events Spock intended to stay with the Enterprise for as long as he could. Given his current situation, it was the best and most logical option. Spock knew Captain Kirk would have a comment to make about any claim Spock made about this thought, and so he kept it to himself.

Still, he did feel a sense of obligation to assist the ship in any way he could. The occasional night shift was simply one way of fulfilling that obligation. This night in particular he was off. Three nights ago, the Captain had visited him during his night shift and caused a minor commotion on the bridge. Spock was getting used to the commotions Captain Kirk caused wherever he went. He only hoped he wouldn't get so used to them that they ceased to matter.

He was walking back to his quarters after sharing dinner with Uhura, who was walking alongside him, chatting amiably about something Spock had long since lost track of. It was not his intention to be rude, however she had invited herself along without asking him and currently all Spock wanted to do was be alone.

When they arrived at his quarters, Spock put out a hand to block Uhura's entry. She stopped speaking and looked at him, eyes asking a question she didn't seem able to vocalize.

"I apologize, but I would like to spend this evening alone," Spock said.

Uhura paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "We haven't spent time together since the mission started," she said, quietly. "I thought it'd be nice for us to talk for a while."

"Perhaps another time," Spock replied.

"All right," she said after a moment. "Let me know when you're feeling up to it."

Spock went into his quarters, leaving Uhura standing outside them, watching him as the door slid shut between them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Spock thought of the alternate timeline (which he did, often, because he had met his other self and the knowledge that could be gained was impossible and vast), he imagined a world where his mother hadn't been killed. It wasn't much different from the one he currently lived in. He had rarely seen his mother since joining Starfleet, and knowing he would never see her again was the equivalent of knowing he would miss his yearly visit to Vulcan. Then he remembered (not that he ever forgot, but at that point the memory was forced onto him) about his planet and his race, and the knowledge of his mother's death suddenly seemed pale and insignificant to one half of him, while to the other it remained everything.

Spock disliked splitting himself in two like that. Classifying one half of him as human and emotional and the other half as Vulcan and logical seemed innately wrong to him. He was one being that contained conflicting opinions, but then again most beings he had encountered contained conflicting opinions, even those who were fully one race. Humans were known for their inner conflicts, but even Vulcans had moments of doubt and lengthy internal arguments to determine which course of action would bring about the desired result. Emotion was praised in one of his cultures and rejected in the other, but that did not mean Spock had to choose one of those paths. He could navigate between them, arrange himself where he thought was best, and if he was able to reap the benefit of both human emotion and Vulcan logic, all the better.

Still, there were times when Spock felt that division rise to the surface, separating his mind so quickly and completely that it was impossible to avoid. His mother had been killed. His planet had been destroyed. His race was near extinction. He felt overwhelming grief, despair, loneliness, and anger. He knew there were plans to be made for his mother's funeral, New Vulcan, and how to deal with whoever remained. He felt as though his world had ended and somehow he had survived, surrounded by people who could never truly understand him. He knew he had a job to perform and that there was nothing he could have done about any of the recent disasters.

In the alternate timeline, those disasters never happened. In that reality, everything in Spock's life was still stable. So Spock often thought of that world because he did not know how to come to terms with the one he now lived in. If the choice was between a reality where he had everything and one where he had nothing, both emotion and logic arrived at the same conclusion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Just over a week into his shiny new Captaincy, Jim realized he had certain unexpected responsibilities as Captain. He was expected to interfere in some matters and stay out of others. Usually, the difference between the two was clear, but when he saw Uhura walk swiftly away from Spock's quarters with obvious anger and sadness in her movements, Jim was torn. On the one hand, as Captain he should stay out of the personal lives of his crew. That wasn't exactly protocol, since technically speaking romances among members of the same crew were forbidden even though no one had paid any attention to that rule for over a hundred years. Still, Jim instinctively felt it was the right thing to do, allowing the crew's personal lives to stay, well, personal. On the other hand, his First Officer was someone he worked with continuously, and if he had a problem it could potentially affect the running of the ship. So that might mean Jim was expected to deal with it.

After less than five seconds, Jim found he was already walking towards Spock's quarters. In the end, what mattered the most was that Spock was his friend, or they were starting to be friends, or they would already _be_ friends if Spock wasn't so insistent on being so Vulcan and logical all the time, and that meant Jim knew he had to see what was going on. He was there for his friends, and semi-friends, when they needed him.

Jim knocked on Spock's door, fully intending on tracking down a security passcode to get in if he had to. The door opened before Jim could knock a second time. Spock stood there, looking calm as he always did, but something about the set of his shoulders and the slant of his eyebrows had Jim immediately worried.

"Hey," Jim said. "Mind if I come in?"

Spock moved to the side to let him pass. Jim walked into Spock's quarters, the first time he had ever done so, and was immediately assaulted by a wave of heat. He stopped in mid-motion and looked pointedly at Spock, who reached to a keypad near the door and tapped three keys. The temperature immediately dropped to the standard ship settings.

"Thanks," Jim said. "Man, you like to keep it hot in here. Is that a Vulcan thing?"

"Yes," Spock replied. He walked away from the door and sat on the edge of his bed, gesturing for Jim to sit in the one chair the room had. "My body temperature is higher than yours."

"Oh. Good to know," Jim said. He turned the chair around and sat in it backwards, facing Spock who was sitting on the bed looking him expectantly. "So."

"You have something you wish to speak to me about," Spock said.

"Kind of, yeah," Jim replied. "It's more like I think you might have something you'd like to talk about, actually."

Spock waited a moment before replying. "I am not sure I understand what you came here for."

Jim hesitated. He didn't want to push Spock into something he wasn't ready for. Maybe whatever was bothering him wasn't that bad, or maybe it was none of Jim's business, or maybe they just weren't close enough yet that Spock felt like he could confide in him. It was impossible to tell what was going on, but Jim hadn't forgotten any of the recent events, and he planned on covering most of them.

"Look, I know we're not exactly friends yet," Jim started. He swallowed and suddenly realized he was a lot more nervous about this conversation than he thought he'd be. "But there's a few things I've been meaning to tell you, and I figure maybe once I say them, you'll feel comfortable enough to talk to me, too." Spock remained silent, which Jim took as a sign to keep going. He breathed in deeply and then plunged right in. "I'm sorry for what I said on the bridge, when you were still Captain." Jim waited for a response from Spock, but the man was sitting there looking at him without moving. "It was cruel and I felt like an asshole when I was doing it, but I know it needed to get done anyway. I shouldn't have insulted you like that."

Spock seemed to sit up a little straighter. "Apology accepted. I understood the reason for your behavior shortly after the fact and required no explanation."

"Yeah, well, it was still shitty to say it," Jim replied. "And there's something else." Jim looked Spock directly in the eyes and waited to speak until Spock returned the look. "I'm sorry for your losses." Jim tried to convey his sorrow and honesty through the look, but Spock broke it off and gazed at a spot over Jim's shoulder. "I know there's nothing I can say to make it better for you. I know I don't understand what you're going through. But I am sorry it happened."

The silence between them stretched until it was wire-thin. Jim wanted to break it, to say something else, but he knew he had to remain quiet until Spock gave an indication of how he wanted the conversation to progress. He hadn't come here to burn bridges, after all. He'd come here to mend them.

Eventually, Spock bowed his head. "My older self advised me to do what feels right," he said. Jim waited for the connection, hoping he wouldn't have to make some kind of huge leap in logic. "However, I cannot feel anything right now past the pain of losing so much in so short a time."

Jim stilled, feeling like he was balancing on a precarious edge. "It's okay to feel pain," he said. "When you've lost that much, everyone feels pain. It's only natural."

"It is not natural for me," Spock said, voice rising. Jim straightened in his chair, realizing he was about to get an emotional outburst from the same Vulcan who had strangled him the last time he was upset. "I am not used to dealing with a large amount of emotional disturbance. A Vulcan being overcome by emotion is unheard of."

"It happens to humans all the time," Jim said. "And you're half-human. So it's okay for you to freak out once in a while, especially over something like this." Jim kept his voice calm, wanting to avoid an argument. "No one will blame you for being upset."

"_I_ will blame myself," Spock replied, voice so loud he was almost shouting. He stood up and began pacing in front of his bed, a sure sign of his anger since Jim could never remember seeing Spock do any unnecessary movements before. "The human part of me is what I wish to ignore. It does not assist me in performing my duties or in controlling my emotions. It has no purpose other than to confuse me and incite me to perform embarrassing emotional displays."

Jim bit his lower lip, wondering what the right response was. He knew Spock didn't think that way, not really. But when he was hurting so much, maybe he did believe the side of him that felt the most was a bad thing.

"You've dealt with your emotions before," Jim said, slowly. "And you can control them better than anyone else I know. If you were anyone else, you'd have quit Starfleet and had a mental breakdown in some cave somewhere. I think you're showing a lot of emotional restraint, actually."

"It might seem that way to a human," Spock said. "To a Vulcan, my behavior is a disgrace."

"All right, that's enough," Jim said, getting to his feet and striding across the room before Spock could say anything else. He stepped into Spock's path, forcing him to stop and look at Jim. "You're not a disgrace. You hear me? You're a credit to the uniform and _both_ your races."

"Again, you are a human. Of course it appears that way to you," Spock replied.

"Yeah, I'm human, you caught me," Jim said, throwing his hands up. "But you know what? It's not a bad thing. You know that as much as I do, you're just too upset to think clearly about it."

"I am not upse—"

"Yes, you are!" Jim shouted, interrupting him. "Of course you are! You just lost your people, your planet, your _mother_! You can't tell me you're not upset, okay?! I _know_ you're upset!"

"Do not tell me what I lost!" Spock shouted, face twisting in fury. "I will not allow you to lecture me on this matter!"

"I'm not lecturing you!" Jim grabbed Spock's shoulders and held him tightly, hoping he could knock some sense into his First Officer before they had another round of fighting. "I'm just telling you that it's okay! You can be angry or sad or whatever you are! It's all right to feel!"

Spock seethed for almost a minute before he responded. "I know that," he said through grit teeth. "Even if it was not acceptable, there is nothing I can do about how I feel."

"How do you feel?" Jim asked, letting his grip loosen. "Tell me, I'll listen."

Spock swallowed. "I feel empty," he said. All of his anger seemed to disappear, and his shoulders slumped as he shook his head and closed his eyes. "I feel as though what I have lost will never be replaced."

Jim decided to be honest. "It won't," he said. "You're never going to replace any of it."

Spock opened his eyes to stare at Jim. "Then how will I survive?"

"You'll get through it," Jim replied. "Let yourself grieve. Get angry when you need to. Cry when you need to. After some time, the pain will fade. You'll be able to move on, to live your life."

"Is that what happened for you?" Spock asked. Jim looked at him blankly. "Your father died when you were a child."

"Oh," Jim said. He paused and then shrugged, letting his hands fall from Spock's shoulders. "Yeah, it was different for me. I was too young to remember him, so I never really had to mourn him."

"I see," Spock replied. He titled his head and gave Jim a considering look. "I feel slightly better than I did before I spoke to you."

The corner of Jim's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "That's good. I'm glad."

"Perhaps speaking about my feelings is a good idea," Spock continued.

"I told you," Jim said. "And shouting at someone is always great stress relief."

"Indeed," Spock said. "Lieutenant Uhura attempted to convince me to speak with her. Perhaps I should have done so."

Jim took a second to imagine the idea of Spock shouting in Uhura's face. He grimaced. "You know, if you're going to be yelling, I think you'd be better off not dragging her into it. But for just talking, that's a good idea."

"I have spoken to Lieutenant Uhura in the past about this matter," Spock said. "However, I have never achieved the level of satisfaction I currently feel."

"It's the shouting," Jim said, pushing down the pleasure he felt from Spock's unintentional gratitude. "I'm telling you, shouting is great."

"Perhaps," Spock said. "Thank you for speaking with me."

"No problem," Jim said, and now he let himself feel pleased. A grin spread across his face and he figured it was all right to show it. "Any time. I mean it."

Spock nodded. "I will remember."

There was a few seconds of comfortable silence before Jim cleared his throat and said, "I guess I'll get going, now that you feel better and all."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "I will see you tomorrow." Jim walked towards the door, but right before it opened Spock said, "Captain."

Jim turned around. "Yeah?"

"You are mistaken," Spock said. Jim was about to ask what exactly Spock was talking about when he continued. "I have considered us friends since we beamed aboard Nero's ship together."

Jim's grin lit up the room, threatening to split his face in half. "My friends call me Jim," he replied.

"I will see you tomorrow, Jim," Spock said.

Jim gave him a half-hearted two-fingered salute before leaving, grin still plastered all over his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Spock saw Uhura the next morning before he had even been to the bridge, he took her aside and attempted to make his feelings about their relationship known. She was so forceful on the matter that he had never been able to get his point across before, but for some reason after his conversation with Captain Kirk, or rather Jim as he had asked to be called, Spock felt more assured that he would be able to speak to her without getting side-tracked.

"Lieutenant Uhura, I believe it is not in either of our best interests to continue our current relationship," Spock said.

Uhura stared at him for a moment before asking, "Why do you say that?"

"I am currently not in an acceptable emotional state to develop the type of relationship you wish to have with me," Spock explained. "I believe it would be unfair to both of us to continue our arrangement."

Uhura nodded once, thoughtfully. "I understand what you're saying," she replied. "But I think you've overlooked something important."

Spock had known that Uhura would argue with him using logic. It was one of her traits that he found most admirable. However, it was also the reason he knew it would be difficult for her to understand his emotions. She was used to dealing with him in logical terms. Anything else was still foreign ground for them.

"Please explain," Spock said.

"Well, first and most importantly, it's at the times when we're feeling the worst that it's most important to have people around who care about us," Uhura said. "I agree that you're not in the best state to develop our relationship right now, but that doesn't mean we have to break up. We can just stay the way we are until you're able to move forward."

"It seems unfair for me to force you to wait until I am in better control of my emotions," Spock replied. "This is especially true since I am unsure how long this process will take."

"I don't mind waiting," she said. "Also, we've only been together for just under two weeks. That's not nearly enough time for either of us to come to any conclusions about how we feel about each other. And it doesn't make any sense for us to break up only for you to realize later that you actually do want to be with me."

Spock hesitated. It wasn't in his best interests to agree with her, but she did have a point that he had to concede. He might not be thinking clearly right now, and two weeks did seem like an unreasonably short amount of time to come to any conclusions on how he felt about Uhura.

"You appear to be right," Spock said. "Two weeks is too short a period of time to determine our feelings. It would be unwise to come to a decision at this juncture."

Uhura gave him an appraising look. "I do know that you're going through a tough time right now," she said. "I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to be here in case you need me."

"I understand," Spock said. "However, perhaps we should set an amount of time after which it would be reasonable to make a decision about our relationship. I cannot guarantee I will be behaving normally at that point, yet I believe allowing this to continue indefinitely would be foolish."

Uhura nodded. "All right, then. Six months."

Spock waited a beat before responding. "That seems unreasonably long to me."

"Well, it's long enough that we'll both be sure," she replied. "If you take into account how you're feeling now and the amount of time you'll need to try to recover, then the actual amount of time we'll have to figure things out will be a lot shorter."

"That sounds logical," Spock said. "However I still believe the better option would be for us to end our relationship now while I recover. Then we will be able to return to our arrangement afterwards, if both of us agree that is what we wish."

"Like I said before, now's the time when you need people who care about you the most," Uhura said. "I won't abandon you now, of all times."

Spock nodded once, unable to say anything more. He could not say that the comfort she wished to provide had already been given to him by another, nor could he say that he did not believe her decision to start their relationship so soon after his mother's death was irresponsible, perhaps even selfish. So Spock left her and made his way towards the bridge, prepared to continue his work for the day.

On the way there, Spock saw Jim walking towards him. They stopped next to each other intuitively, and Spock was immediately pleased to see him.

"Good morning, Jim," Spock said.

"Morning," Jim replied. "Hey, what's going on? You weren't on the bridge when I got there. You're always there before me. Did you sleep late or something?"

"I was speaking to Lieutenant Uhura," Spock answered. "We had a disagreement."

Jim grimaced. "That doesn't sound good."

"Indeed, no."

"What happened?"

Jim began walking towards the bridge, slowly, and Spock walked alongside him. They fell into step easily, as if they had years of practice walking together. Spock was struck by how much more comfortable he felt at Jim's side than at Uhura's. This was a classic example of the difference between a friendship and a romantic entanglement. Friendships could be relaxed and uncomplicated. Romances would always be difficult.

"I believe I may not be suitable for a romantic relationship at the present time, given my current emotional distress. Lieutenant Uhura believes otherwise," Spock explained.

"Wait. You broke up with her?" Jim asked.

"No, although I do believe that is the best course of action at this time," Spock replied.

"I don't get it." Jim glanced over at Spock, who looked back at him with a neutral expression. "She wouldn't let you break up with her? Is _that_ what happened?"

"Lieutenant Uhura provided me with several logical reasons why it might be wiser to allow our relationship to continue," Spock said. He wasn't entirely certain that he should be speaking about this with Jim, but it was a human tradition to discuss personal matters with friends. Since he would be living among humans, Spock needed to get used to their traditions. "She stated that I might be unable to make the correct decision regarding our relationship due to my emotional unease. She also stated that humans need companionship during difficult transitional periods and so she believes ending our relationship at the present time would be a morally inappropriate action."

"Okay," Jim said after a moment. "I get all that. But I'm surprised that's why you agreed to stay with her."

"How so?" Spock asked.

"Relationships are all about feelings, not logic," Jim said. "If you feel like you shouldn't be with her, then you probably shouldn't." Jim shrugged. "Logic doesn't really work in these kinds of situations."

"Fascinating," Spock said.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You're so weird."

"Lieutenant Uhura and I have agreed on a trial period of six months to determine our feelings for each other," Spock continued, ignoring Jim's statement entirely.

"Six months?" Jim repeated. "That's a long time to stay with someone you're not sure about."

"Yes. However, it was the Lieutenant's request and I thought it would be fitting to honor it," Spock stated. "After all, once the six months are over we will be able to reach an agreement that both of us will willingly honor."

"Hm. You think so?" Jim asked, scratching the back of his neck idly with one hand. "Seems to me like she just conned you into staying with her longer than you want to."

"Lieutenant Uhura would not act with such dishonor and selfishness," Spock countered. "I highly doubt her reasoning was based on impure motives."

Jim laughed so loudly it echoed down the corridor. "Wow," he said. "And here I thought you knew what she was like. She's smart enough to outmaneuver you if she wanted to get her way. And guess what, Spock? All humans are dishonorable and selfish. Get used to it."

"Does that include you, Captain?"

"Of course," Jim replied, grinning. "I'm probably the most dishonorable, selfish bastard you'll ever meet."

"Is that so?"

"I'm quite proud of it," Jim continued. "It's hard to be this gorgeous and successful _and_ have a stunning personality. If being selfish is my only flaw, well, it's only reasonable I should have _one_."

Spock was silent for a few seconds. "Your flaws are becoming increasingly apparent the more time I spend in your company."

"Nah," Jim said, waving a hand towards Spock. "You're just observant. Most people don't notice I have any flaws, ever."

They reached the lift and the doors opened. Jim walked inside first, Spock following a moment later. Once inside, Spock pressed the button for the bridge and waited patiently for Jim to continue raving about his own virtues. He found he didn't mind listening to Jim, even when everything he said was illogical and a waste of time. For some reason, simply being next to Jim was soothing, and the positive effects of their interactions by far outweighed any problems Spock may have had to listening to Jim blabber uselessly on. In fact, Spock realized he didn't have any problems with listening to Jim talk, even when it was idle chatter that had no true purpose. This human version of friendship was a good thing for everyone involved. It was different enough from Vulcan friendship to stand out, since Vulcan friendships were based more on shared views of the world and less on compatibility. Not that Spock had harbored any Vulcan friendships during his time on his home world. Not that there was a home world left to create friendships on.

Silence passed for a few seconds before Jim cleared his throat. Spock looked over at him, wondering what his Captain wanted, but Jim was looking at the doors, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"So, um, how are you feeling?" Jim asked. "Not to be annoying, but you know. I thought I should check."

"I am feeling better now than I was last night," Spock replied. "Your concern is not an annoyance."

"Oh. That's good," Jim said. "I mean, you seem better."

"It will take some time," Spock said.

"Yeah," Jim replied. "I guess it will."

The lift doors opened and they stepped onto the bridge, Jim heading for his coveted chair and Spock taking the few steps to his own station. When Lieutenant Uhura appeared minutes later, Spock realized he had not given her any thought since his conversation with Jim. He would have to work on that. For their relationship to succeed, he needed to make a conscious effort to consider her needs above his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Feedback is love. 3


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